


The Terrier and the Tramp

by alltoseek



Series: Available for Adoption [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dogs, Dog!Harold, Dog!Reese, Gen, Reese!Angst, Root makes a cameo - Freeform, also canon, as always, cat!Root, hero!Reese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10358289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek
Summary: Reese is convinced he is a Bad Dog. Harold is not so sure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feroxargentea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feroxargentea/gifts).



> Thanks as always to my betas alcyone and feroxargentea, especially for POV!wrangling (if you hate when writers slip back and forth from one POV to the other wo warning, you have them to thank for keeping this fic confusion free :-)
> 
> Title credit goes to elbowsinsidethedoor, from a comment on the first fic in this series, "Available for Adoption: Harold". Thank you! Too cute not to use <3

“Hi Grace!” Elizabeth came in the office where Grace was working. “May I borrow Harold for a moment?”

“Sure,” said Grace with a smile. She pushed her chair back so Liz could get at the dog on her lap more easily. “Is it time for his therapy?”

“Nah, we’re doing a dog-reactivity test on a new arrival,” she answered, carefully scooping him up.

“Oh, he loves those!” said Grace.

“Yeah, he does.” Elizabeth smiled. “He’s so good at them. He never cares if the other dog barks or snaps at him, just sits there cool as can be. Loves investigating all the new dogs, he does.”

 

~~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~~

 

Reese and Harold had met before, of course. Harold had gone through the recovery room on the way to and from therapy in the clinic, and neither dog was the type to miss the presence of another animal.

This time the woman set the terrier mix down near Reese’s cage. Each eyed the other warily.

“Mr. Reese, is it?” said Harold.

“That’s right, _Harold_ ,” said Reese. He’d always found uninvited familiarity a better way to gain control than remaining formal, and he had no intention of ceding any dominance to this snooty uptight terrier, no matter how much the humans doted on the little dog. 

“You are looking… well,” observed Harold.

“Got my bath,” said Reese, sitting down to scratch at his chin. 

He’d tried briefly to get out of the groomer’s hands, being not especially fond of water, but she’d held firm, saying, “I'm sorry, but I'm not letting you back in the kennels looking like this. You wanna catch your new family’s eye you gotta look beauuu~ti~ful. And you will, big fellow, you will be one goooor~geous hunk of animal.” She’d kept talking to him while she brushed out the ragged clumps of shed undercoat and massaged in the shampoo. She’d guided him where she wanted him and hadn’t put up with any nonsense.

It had felt nice, being brushed out. And it was pleasant no longer carrying the odors of every garbage bin he’d rooted through in the past few months.

 

Harold was less pleased. He’d been looking forward to a more thorough investigation into Reese’s past, everywhere he’d been. Now all he could smell was Reese himself, the shampoo the shelter used, and Wendy, the groomer.

 

Elizabeth was happy, however. Reese was well-behaved with Harold, and Harold had no problem with Reese. The big Dobie-husky-whatever-mix was ready to be released from the recovery area.

 

~~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~~

After nearly two weeks of cooperative behavior from Reese, the shelter staff certainly hadn’t realized what a Bad Dog he was, so they moved him into the regular dog kennel and made him available for adoption.

It was a quiet day, not many staff or volunteers around, and even fewer visitors. The change was still exciting for Reese. There were many more dogs in the kennel than in the room where he’d been previously, including a whole row opposite his.

Even more exciting was getting to visit the exercise yard, where a volunteer threw balls and toys for him to fetch. So much fun! He finally got a chance to stretch his legs, work his muscles - with so much energy, since he’d been eating so well. Reese even showed off his jumping skills, which the human seemed pretty impressed with, going by the excited noises she made. 

And then there was the walk. It had been so long since anyone had walked Reese. Not since he lost his handler, and even then they hadn’t really gone for walks; they were always working. Working while walking was different from a casual stroll where you got to sniff everything. 

Pulling the lead tight, it was easy to keep track of the human walking him now, who let Reese go pretty much anywhere he wanted. At least she didn’t object to his going anywhere in particular. She made some grumpy noises but Reese figured she just hadn’t had her coffee yet, or some other human problem. Anyway, the walk was wonderful.

Shelter life was good. Reese didn’t even bother to figure out the kennel door latch, which at a glance seemed like it’d be as easy to work as the previous one. Not that it mattered, because he wasn’t going anywhere. 


	2. Chapter 2

As the morning wore on, the dogs quieted and settled from breakfast (super exciting) and exercise walks (also super exciting). Reese lolled about on the dog bed thoughtfully provided by the staff, trying to cover up the old scents of previous dogs and erase the useless detergent smell with his own aroma, so everyone would know who this spot belonged to.

A woman came in with her child, one of those stumpy little kids who walked stiffly around until they tripped over their own feet and fell down crying. Reese usually stayed away from those, so he wouldn’t get blamed when the inevitable happened.

The woman walked slowly, looking into each kennel, while the kid trailed after her heedlessly. Sometimes the woman would open a kennel door and pet the dog inside. When she got to Reese, he rolled himself upright and put his ears back a bit, lifting his lip just a tad. He didn’t like her; something about her was off, like she thought she knew what she was doing but she really didn’t. Reese couldn’t stand people like that - humans or dogs.

The woman said something nasty to him and then turned away. She looked into the kennel directly opposite Reese’s, where a pit mix was staying. All day he had felt the waves of anxiety coming off the bitch, but hadn’t worried about it, because he had no intention of bothering the poor creature. However, the woman apparently took the pit’s stillness, low posture, and slightly turned head as an invitation to pet her. She opened the door and reached in, but the bitch backed even farther away. The woman made an irritated, exasperated noise. She pulled the door to shut it, but it didn’t latch all the way. The woman moved onto the next dog, but the little kid behind her knocked into the door, opening it again. The woman paid no mind, and the boy stumped right in, chubby arms reaching out for the pit mix. The bitch backed up as far as she could, turning her head away and lifting her lip, but of course the boy was too much of a puppy to understand what she was saying.

The little kid was going to get bitten by an animal protecting herself, and his mother wasn’t paying any attention.

Reese slammed his body against his door - once, twice. The woman looked over her shoulder at him, growling, but still didn’t come to her child’s aid. Reese forced himself to think. He was trained for these situations. He could open the latch: it was a common style; it took him only a few seconds.

The next part was harder. He bounded across to the bitch’s kennel. This finally alerted the woman, who started yelling at him. She didn’t need to, though. Reese already knew what a Bad Dog he was. He grabbed the boy by the collar of his coat and dragged him out of the kennel. The bitch remained huddled in the back of her kennel, though she was now barking and growling. All the dogs were barking - they’d started up as soon as Reese had left his run. The woman was yelling and shrieking and the child was crying and screaming and Reese was a Bad Bad Dog.

 

**~o~**

 

As soon as they were out of the kennel Reese let the child go. The woman kept hitting him, though. She’d started in on him before he’d even got her kid out of danger, kicking and hitting and grabbing, but Reese was well trained. The mission wasn’t completed until the danger was over. 

Reese wished he could hide in his own run, but the woman was standing right over him, striking him even as he cringed away. He could probably have got into his run without hurting her, maybe. But. He’d only been in there for a morning, not even a night. Maybe it wasn’t really his place. All the other dogs were barking: excited, upset, angry, each about something different. Staff were running up to them, also yelling, angry and upset.

Besides, Reese was a Bad Dog. He probably deserved it, anyway.

 

~~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~~

 

The shelter director was a calm, methodical, and patient person. She had to be, to survive the mayhem (to keep the mayhem functional, as she put it). “OK. So, let me get this straight: Reese bit another kid, is that right?”

“No! There wasn’t a scratch on the child! I wasn’t close enough to tell, but I think Reese must have grabbed the kid’s coat, or something. No bite.” Scott, the shelter’s kennel manager, was emphatic. Of course, he was also a bit shifty, feeling guilty about the laxity in the supervision of the kennel.

“But the mother claims the child was bit,” said the Director.

“The mother’s an idiot.”

“Mmm.” So were her staff apparently, allowing visitors in the dog kennel unsupervised, but the Director kept that to herself for now. One thing at a time. Methodical. “Reese randomly grabbing kids strikes me as unsafe behavior, even if he didn’t bite through the clothing.”

“It wasn’t random - that’s the thing.”

“Look, even if a kid enters a dog’s run, the dog shouldn’t seize the kid and drag him about.”

“The kid wasn’t in Reese’s run. He was in Gabby’s.”

The Director narrowed her eyes. “OK. So. Mom lets kid into Gabby’s run, even though it’s clearly marked not to open any kennel doors and especially not Gabby’s, especially not for kids.”

“Right. Though the mother denies opening any kennels, but no one else was there. The run next to Gabby’s was also left open.”

“And Reese’s.”

“And Reese’s. The mother claims Reese opened his own door. She didn’t like the look of him so she went right on by, but then Reese slammed up against the door a couple of times and it opened.”

“He opened his own door, just so he could grab this kid out of Gabby’s run.”

“That’s the story.”

“Seems unlikely.”

“Yeah, but on the other hand, Gabby would almost certainly have bitten the boy if Reese hadn’t got him out of there.”

“So Reese is playing the hero again, is that our claim?”

“Ummm…” Scott looked uncertain.

“Apparently that’s his thing.” The Director took a breath. “OK, I will talk to the mother, if she’s still here. I want Reese removed from the kennel--”

Scott started to interrupt but the Director held up her hand and continued. “I know he’s been well-behaved with us, and if there was no bite I’m not putting him back in quarantine. I want him placed in an office where someone can keep a close eye on him. Also,” she took another breath, “I want him muzzled.”

The kennel manager scowled at this, but the Director held firm. “We have to take appropriate action, for ourselves, for our visitors, and for Reese himself. We can use a large basket muzzle, so he can drink and pant normally. Also, since we’ll have a close eye on him, if the muzzle should pose a problem we’ll be able to deal with it. Understood?”

“Yeah, got it. Muzzle Reese, put him in an office.”

“Right.” As Scott left to deal with the dog, the Director took a couple deep breaths and rolled her shoulders in preparation for dealing with the mother. 


	3. Chapter 3

When Reese was led into Harold’s office, the terrier mix trotted down the ramp in his ungainly manner. Reese quirked an eyebrow. “Do I have you to thank for springing me?”

“Not at all, Mr. Reese,” responded Harold. “Though I see that it was indeed you that caused the commotion earlier.”

“Of course it was.” Reese sighed. “Wait, how did you know it was me? I’m not the only Bad Dog here.”

“I knew it was you because yours was the only bark I couldn’t hear.”

Reese frowned. “You wouldn’t hear my bark anyway, because one, I don’t bark; and two, I can’t bark; and three, if I do bark it would never be heard over a couple dozen other dogs barking, even if you are part Boston.”

“I assure you I can easily distinguish your distinctive vocalizations, whatever your opinion of my hearing may be. Also, you will not ascertain my particular pedigree quite so easily, Mr. Reese.”

Reese snorted. “I couldn’t care any less about your pedigree, Harold.” He walked over to the neglected bed in the corner and made himself comfortable in it.

Harold followed him. “I take it you got grabby again,” he said, indicating the muzzle.

Reese gave him a sour look from one eye. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned his head away pointedly, resettling himself so his back curved outward from the corner.

“Why not?”

_Terriers are damned nosy dogs_ , thought Reese. 

“Does it have something to do with what you said about being a ‘bad dog’? I assure you --”

“I already know I’m a Bad Dog, Harold,” snarled Reese in his quiet rasp. “I don’t need you or anyone else lecturing me about it!”

 

**~o~**

 

Harold paused to re-examine his current method of interacting. He knew he wasn’t very good at canine interactions, though he was excellent at analyzing them. Instead of pressing on about the mysterious ‘bad dog’ comment, he invited Reese to join him in looking out the window.

Harold walked across the office to the ramp. He turned himself halfway, looking back at the other dog. “Well?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Reese hesitated a moment. Harold started up the ramp in his stiff, uneven gait. Reese groaned, stretched a bit, stood, shook himself, and finally followed the terrier.

Harold smiled to himself.

Reese examined the ramp. It wasn’t very wide, and the seating at the top wasn’t big enough for both the dogs. Instead, Reese moved to the window seat and put his front legs up on it, inconsiderately displacing Harold slightly.

Harold yelped (a quick, mild, dignified sort of yelp) and shifted over.

Behind his muzzle, Reese smiled.

“So, _Harold_ , this what you do all day? Sit here and watch out the window?” 

Reese had an odd way of saying Harold’s name, a strange mixture of affectionate familiarity and dominance. Harold let it go, figuring that Reese was still trying to work out his position in this new place, this pack-not-pack. It was confusing, Harold would grant that. And Harold had never needed overt displays of dominance to maintain his status and control; he was hardly going to start now.

“Hardly, Mr. Reese,” said Harold. “Tell me, what do you observe?”

Reese enumerated the various birds flicking about the courtyard garden, and the cats observing them in their own window. Plus the one cat hidden in the garden itself, which apparently the humans had yet to notice.

“Very good, Mr. Reese. The cat is Root. I have yet to determine if the humans permit her freedoms, are ignorant of them, or turn a blind eye since they can’t seem to control her in any case. I suspect a combination of the latter two.”

“‘Root’ is an odd name for a cat.”

“Root is an… unusual animal. What else do you notice?”

Reese mentioned the insects also in the garden. He was especially excited about the bees. “I like ‘em,” he said. “They have a taste that’s kind of sharp and fuzzy at the same time.”

Harold nodded. He knew the feeling.

Reese went on to note that several humans had crossed through the courtyard on the way from one building to another while they had been watching. One of the humans had a dog on a leash (the pit mix from earlier). A cat had been transported in a carrier. 

“That’s about it,” concluded Reese. “Unless you want a weather report.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Reese,” said Harold, smiling faintly. “Come over here.” He indicated the corner where the two windows met. “The lower edge of this window.”

Reese dropped his front legs from the ramp, ambled round to Harold’s other side, and raised his forelegs up again, this time on the window seat, and stuck his nose as close to the window frame as his muzzle would allow. He flared his nostrils to catch scents brought in by the draft.

“Convenient, isn’t it?” said Harold, smiling.

Reese nodded, still intent on sniffing.

“Pick up anything else?”

“That cat, Root, doesn’t smell like any other cat I’ve come across.”

Harold sighed. “Right now I am rather more concerned with the dogs. However, as the vomeronasal organ works most effectively with plenty of moisture, I’m not surprised you couldn’t pick it up in the air alone.”

Reese frowned. “I mentioned Gabby.”

“Yes, she’s the only one who’s come through recently.”

Reese pondered. “Do you mean that large shepherd mix Benny? The one who thinks he’s all that and a bag of bones?” 

“Ah, you’ve met him.”

Reese looked at Harold. “I was just in the kennel, Harold. I’ve met all the dogs.”

“Was he the one that upset you today?”

“No, that was Gabby,” said Reese absently.

“Really? I wouldn’t think Gabby would take offense at your presence.”

“No, no, nothing like that. It was -- I said I don’t want to talk about it.” Reese dropped his forelegs down to the floor to sit there in the corner, near the window seat.

Harold paused. “Very well, Mr. Reese. I believe we were speaking of Benton.”

Reese yawned. “So what about him, anyway? They keep us all in separate runs for a reason, you know.”

“Yes, for the most part. But there are those times when dogs are on walks, passing through the courtyard, sometimes in the yard together.”

“Even humans wouldn’t be so stupid as to put Gabby and Benny in the same place at the same time.”

Harold looked at Reese.

“Seriously? You think they would… Seriously?!”

“Never underestimate the stupidity of humanity.”

Reese snorted. “You don’t have to tell me. You should have seen that idiot woman and her idiot child. Shouldn’t blame the kid though, poor thing was like a pup before its eyes are open.”

Harold looked at him, alarmed. “Did that woman allow her child into Gabby’s run?”

Reese nodded.

“Oh dear. How badly was the child injured?”

Reese glared at him. “You think I would sit there and let a little kid get hurt just because its mother wasn’t paying attention? Would  _ you _ do that?!”

“Well, no, not if I could help it. But what could you do? I thought you were locked in your run.”

Reese scoffed. “The latches aren’t hard to open. Put your toenail in the one thing and press with your muzzle on the other and there you are: push on the door and it opens.”

Harold’s eyes went round. “You can open closed doors?”

“Sure. Done it a million times. Piece of cake.”

“That’s really quite remarkable, Mr. Reese.” Harold spoke with admiration.

Reese dropped his head and looked away. After a moment he yawned again. “I’m going to take a nap.” He walked past the desk, the human sitting there giving him an idle scratch as he passed, back to the nest of blankets in the far corner.

Harold trotted unevenly down the ramp to follow him. “Mr. Reese, is that lint in your teeth?”

“Damn kid’s coat,” muttered the big dog, lying down.

“You opened your run, went into Gabby’s, and pulled the child out by his coat, saving him from injury,” summarized Harold.

Reese scratched his ear and scooted around, making himself comfortable.

“The only part I don’t understand is this ‘bad dog’ notion. You sound like a very Good Dog to me.”

Reese laid his chin on his paws, back to Harold, and closed his eyes.

Harold contemplated the bed. It was a little early for his nap, but the most exciting thing going on currently was Reese. He found an unoccupied corner of the blankets and a pillow not in use by the large dog, who managed to take up a relatively small amount of space.

Reese looked up and around, alarmed at Harold’s getting in the bed.

“It is my bed, you know,” Harold pointed out gently.

Reese looked like he wanted to retort, but there really was nothing to say. The whole office smelled of Harold. The big dog made to get up. “I’ll sleep on the floor then.”

“Oh, no, please, Mr. Reese, don’t disturb yourself. There’s plenty of room for us both.”

Reese looked at him carefully, then settled back down. “All right.” He laid his head down, and composed himself for sleep. 

Harold did likewise, his back leaning up against Reese’s warm one.

 

~~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~{``}~~

 

Some time later, Scott stuck his head into the office. He nodded and smiled at the two dogs sleeping. “They getting along all right then?” he asked Adam, who’d been working at the desk.

“Like a house on fire,” said Adam. “Though there really ought to be a less destructive analogy, considering they’ve been perfectly peaceful this whole time. Harold even invited him up to the window seat.”

Scott looked at the seat. “It’s a bit small for Reese, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, he just put his front legs up. But Harold showed him where to get the good sniffs from the draft where the corner’s a bit out of whack.”

“And now they’re napping together. I’ve never seen Harold take to another dog like that, have you?”

“Nope. He always sits up there by himself.”

“Well, I’m glad they’ve found a friend in each other. I think they’re both in need of one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Besides Root, the following characters make cameos: Grace, Elizabeth Whitaker, Wendy McNally (from Number Crunch), Scott Powell, and Adam Saunders. The shelter Director is vaguely based on Control, but her personality's not quite so intense and warped.
> 
> Root was not supposed to be in this fic. Then up she pops. Just like canon, eh? Then she tries to take over. Yeah, just like in canon. I beat her back once (just barely) - and then she pops up _again_. Couldn't believe it. But really, it's all basically canon. The plan is for Root to have a more prominent role in a later fic.


End file.
